


Unsinkable

by SeizetheDre



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Community: spn_au, F/M, M/M, My First Destiel Fanfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-16 11:46:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2268525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeizetheDre/pseuds/SeizetheDre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>April 10, 1912 was a day of many wonders.</p>
<p>For young elitist Castiel Novak, it signifies the end of his childhood, and the beginning of a new life in America. A life that begins with an absolutely dreadful event; an arranged marriage to estranged, but oh so wealthy, Meg Masters. Yearning for the freedom of a youthful, duti-free life, Castiel plans the unthinkable, but will his desperate plan work out as he hopes? </p>
<p>Dean Winchester is poor as can be, with nothing to his name but the clothes on his back and a sketchbook in his hand. So how does one like him attain tickets to the most sought after voyage in Europe? Well, it's all thanks to a lucky game of poker. With his brother, Sam, at his side, Dean can conquer the world.</p>
<p>What happens when these two polar opposite personas collide? Surely nothing but several ignorant encounters, for there are only so many places to hide on a ship. Soon the voyage will end and they will both go their separate ways. What could possibly go wrong? The Titanic is, after all, unsinkable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

April 10, 1912

People from all around have come to make witness of history in the making. All around, the docks are littered with people. Both the rich and poor alike are cluttered in groups, waiting for their chance to board the famous Ship of Dreams. The grandest and most luxurious ship on the planet.

Those lucky enough to afford tickets stood in line, waiting to be inspected by the ship's doctors. It had been made clear that not a single person with any kind of disease could board the ship.

Children ran around, buzzing with the excitement that came with traveling to far off, distant places. Lovers held hands and glanced at one another with hope filled eyes, ready for the new life that awaited them in America.

Horse-drawn carriages came and went as the wealthy arrived, the large and elegantly groomed horses clopped along on the cobblestoned streets, pawing impatiently at the ground and snorting ignorantly.

The amount of chatter was incredible.

All over, passengers were saying their goodbyes to close friends and family, hugging and kissing them goodbye with promises to return soon. Tears were shed by mothers and fathers who watched as their newly wed sons and daughters boarded the ship with their belongings.

There were many passengers aboard the ship already, and the decks were filled with people trying to get to the railings for one last view of the life they were leaving behind. A third class man held his young daughter in his arms, lifting her high enough so that she could peek over the metal bars and wave to the people below.

The ship's horn blared loudly, and last minute calls were made for last minute boarders.

Smoke billowed from the ship's smokestacks and the Titanic began to move slowly. The people waved towards the passengers on board and the cheering intensified. Goodbyes were yelled from both above and below as the ship made its way out of the port.

The people remained until the Titanic was out of sight and there was nothing but sea in front of them.


	2. The Wreckage

A bright light appeared out of the murky Atlantic waters. The low mechanical whirs of a large propeller resonated through the sub, sending a small vibration throughout the hard metal outside. The loud beeping of the sonar pinged back and forth from the sea to the sonar screen. Two men sat inside the vessel, staring hard at the sea in front of them. Static sounded over the small speaker in the older man's hands.

"Charles, you should see it soon." A voice on the other end called out. "It's about another twenty meters ahead of you."

The man with the speaker pressed a button and spoke. "Copy, we'll let you know when we find it." He set the speaker down. "Hey Mike, turn on all the search lights. I think we're close"

Darkness seemed to overwhelm the small vessel as it traveled, hovering a few yards above the deserted ocean floor. The lights flickered on and the ocean around them became a never-ending view of different shades of green and blue. A small school of fish darted across the window, their transparent bodies flashing with alien light. Jellyfish made their way slowly across their path. All was calm outside the nine inch glass of the submarine's window. The excitement of this expedition lie in what had sunk to the ground many years ago, several meters ahead of the small sea rover.

"Mike." A Charles called. He was a young underwater explorer whose voice held an unmistakable tone of hope. A man who had dedicated his whole life and poured thousands of hours into studying maps and books all for the single, thrilling moment that came with discovering something that had never been uncovered before. He placed a hand on Mike's shoulder and shook excitedly, pointing out into the darkness.

"Mike," he called again. "Hold on... I think I see something up ahead. Here, turn on the backup lights, I definitely see something." Mike switched on the lights and both men sucked in a breath at what they saw looming out of the darkness of the water.

In the dim light of the submarine, the colossal bow of a ship could be seen. Charles maneuvered their vessel closer to the alien object and stared in amazement as the words on the side of the ship. Though the metal was rusting and falling apart and the paint's polish had long since faded, the writing was still legible. There, in chipped gold letters was a single word.

TITANIC

"Well I'll be damned." Mike muttered. "We did it Charles. We found her."

Mike and Charles sat quietly, awestruck my the immensity of it all. Not twenty yards from the sub, was the first discovered half of the famous Titanic; a masterpiece that had sunk to the bottom of the Atlantic over fifty years ago. What had once been the most massive and exclusively luxurious ship on the planet, now lay rusting and falling apart on the bottom of the ocean.

"Should we try to get closer, boss?" Mike asked in a hushed whisper, too astounded in their new discovery to raise his voice any higher.

Charles thought for a moment, pondering on all the possible outcomes. "I think we should go about another twenty five yards, just above the deck, then deploy RoverCamera-4 to get a better view of the inside. I have a feeling we're going to get what we came for today Mike." Charles clapped Mike on the shoulder and smiled broadly as they slowly made their way towards the wreckage.

As the vessel came closer to the sunken ship, Charles took out a camera and began recording.

"It is now 5:45 in the morning. Mike Samuels and I have just spotted the first ever discovered half of the Ship of Dreams. The ship that was said to be unsinkable, now lays forgotten here at the bottom of the Atlantic. We currently find ourselves at about two and a half miles below the surface. We find ourselves surrounded by a pressure weight of approximately three and a half tons per square inch. This glass is nine inches thick, and if that goes, then it's goodbye for us in two microseconds."

"Way to keep the conversation light, boss."

"Shut up, Samuels. I'm stating facts for our report," retorted Charles.

"Whatever you say, boss. I don't know about you, but I don't plan on dying down here. This place is depressing enough as it is."

Charles laughed and shut off the camera. "Hey, get back to work, will you? We're on a sensitive mission here and we don't need your carelessness messing it up for us."

"Yeah, yeah," Mike waved off Charles's comment with a flick of his wrist and went back to preparing the smaller vessel for departure. "I'm on it Charlie."

"It's Charles, not Charlie." He slapped the back of Mike's head. Mike just laughed harder.

Once close enough, Mike deployed the small rover with a few taps of his fingers. The small machine whirred away from the sub in a swirl of bubbles. The two men watched as the rover's light disappeared into a nearby rusted doorway and then switched on its camera. From their perspective, they could not see much more than a few feet in either direction. Mike took over as the control keeper and navigated the RoverCamera-4 towards an old hall.

The wallpaper had long since disappeared, yet a few broken frames remained, hanging crookedly. RC-4 moved along the middle of the hallway, giving Charles and Mike a 270° view of their surroundings. Fish darted around the camera, drawn in by the bright light. Shattered dishes littered the floor and what little that wasn't covered in broken furniture, was overcome with years of algae growth.

"There," Charles pointed out, a map in his hands, "That's the doorway to the grand staircase, so we should be close." Sure enough, there was a broken outline of what may have once been an elegant door with intricate wood carvings and stained glass windows. "Just move to the left and go down that doorway."

The small machine obeyed its commands and made its way down a long, narrow corridor on the left. About half way down the hall, it took another left into one of the battered doorways.

"This must have been Miss Masters room."

"Yeah," agreed Charles, looking at the map for confirmation. "Yes, this is it. Meg here was one of the wealthiest passengers aboard the ship. It says in the records that she practically bought a whole deck to serve as her own private tea and relaxation house."

"What a prima-donna, yeesh."

"You can say that again." Agreed Charles, looking at all her other information.

"Does it say anything on the records as to where the safe was kept?" He looked through the records and scanned them for any information concerning the safe.

"Ah, yes, here it is. It says here that the safe belonged to her fiancè, whose name was not among those who survived. His room was right through there."

Mike moved RC-4 through a smaller doorway and paused at the fireplace. Both men searched the room for any signs of the safe. It was Mike who spotted it first.

"Hello. Boss, I think I got it." He pointed our a large rectangular object that was hidden under a broken chair.

"Nice eye, Samuels, now take the arms out and let's check this thing out."

Charles helped Mike hook himself up to the robotic arms. He slipped the straps over his arms and adjusted the gloves to his fingers. Mike flipped on a switch and flexed his hands, watching as RC-4's copied his movements. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, loosening his shoulders and rolling his head.

"Now remember, Mike, this stuff is over fifty years old, so that chair could break with one wrong move. You want to be swift, but not clumsy. One wrong move is all it takes to jeopardise this whole mission. Good luck."

"Gee thanks boss, for the words of encouragement," Mike responded sarcastically. "Remind me to nominate you for Boss of the Year Award."

"Never mind that, focus on the task Samuels, or I'll take away your raise."

Mike snorted and began the gruelling task of removing the chair and retrieving the safe. With slow, easy movements, he was able to move the chair and get the robotic hands on the small safe. After securing it inside the vessel and unhooking Mike from the arms, they maneuvered RC-4 back to the main sub and began their long journey back to the surface, leaving the wreckage of the Titanic to fade back into the darkness of the deeps.

\----

The submarine broke the surface of the icy waters and was hoisted up by large, mechanical pulley system. The two cramped scientist were pulled on deck ans cheers erupted around them as they clambered out the top. Charles reached over the rails and helped bring up the safe.

Crew members clapped him on the back and shouted words of congratulations. He set the safe down and made way for another crew member who had equipment meant for opening the old safe. Mike popped open a bottle of champagne and the frenzy got louder. Someone handed Charles an expensive cigar and lit it up for him. Charles was unaware, though. All of his attention was fixed on the safe and the treasures that may be inside of it.

With a final yank of a chain, the safe door was knocked off of its hinges. A torrent of reddish water poured out of the safe. The crowd grew silent as Charles bent down. With shaking hands, he reached inside the dark hole. He fished out several handfuls of pulpy substance, which might have once been important documents. Suddenly, his fingers hit something smooth on the side of the safe. He pulled out a thin portfolio. Charles began to worry. He felt around one more time, wondering if he had missed any spot.

He found nothing.

He stared for a few seconds in defeat. He had really hoped that they would have found it in the safe. He gave a deep sigh and stood up, his face ashen.

"There's nothing there," he said, "But don't worry about it guys, there are still plenty of other places where it can be. I'm sure we'll find it soon. Why don't we just see if we can make sense of any of the other things we found in here." Charles bent down and picked up the portfolio that he had tossed aside in his haste.

The crew scattered and everyone went back to their jobs. Mike followed Charles as they took the portfolio to the artifact room, where a scientist helped them set up a small glass tub filled with water.

The scientist carefully slipped out the fragile, red stained paper from the portfolio. With a small spray tube, she began to douse the paper with a stream of water.

"What do you think it is?" Wondered Charles. The scientist looked up at him through her goggles.

"It may be just an old document that happened to survive all those years. What a miracle that would be." She went back to her work.

Mike and Charles looked on in fascination and curiosity as layer after layer of dirt and rust was removed from the sheet. The first hint of ivory, aged paper appeared in the bottom left corner. It was a signature and a date.

Dean Winchester - April 14, 1912

"This was made the day before Titanic hit the iceberg. Hey Mike, look up the archives and look for a passenger named Dean Winchester, who knows, we may find something." Charles looked on as the scientist continued to wash away the years of grime from the piece of paper.

He began to realize that this was not a document, but a drawing of a man. A very naked man. He was about to deem the drawing as another failed attempt at discovery, when something caught his eye. Right there, on the man's right hand was a ring with an enormous jewel.

"Is that what I think it is?" He asked to no one in particular. The scientist gave him an odd look, but he didn't notice. He was too busy rummaging through the nearby drawers. Finally, he found what he was looking for. He held up a tattered looking picture and compared it to the drawing. They were a perfect match. The ring in the drawing matched the ring in the picture.

"Well I'll be damned," he whispered. "Mike, get over here! Trust me, you're going to want to see this."

\----

An elderly man sat at a small table next to a window that overlooked a busy city street. He looked down, perplexed at the puzzle in front of him. There was only one piece left, so why didn't it fit? His thoughts were interrupted by his granddaughter turning up the volume on the television's news channel.

"In further news, deep sea explorer Charles Evans and his crew have uncovered new artifacts from the famous wreckage of the Titanic. Evans was the first to discover the long sought out wreckage, and has decided to share a few of his findings with the public." The camera zoomed out to reveal a young man, in about his late thirties. He had a broad smile on his face as he took the microphone from the reporter and led them to a table with various recovered objects. The old man closed his eyes and leaned his head back, listening to the men speak.

"Well, Robert, I'm pleased to say that the expedition is going well. We've uncovered a lot these recent months and are still finding a lot more everyday. Here I just want to show you few of the things we've found in the past week or so." The old man tuned then out and began to doze off when something the man said caught his attention.

"As many of the public already know, we are trying to uncover a lost artifact that could very well be several times more valuable than the Hope Diamond itself. This item is a silver ring, made of the finest of precious metals, and in the center of it lies a large, blue diamond. This diamond has been known to many as The Heart of the Ocean. Now, recently, we discovered a drawing in an old safe that depicts a young man wearing said ring." The camera zoomed in on a drawing of a familiar face. "If anyone has any information regarding who this man may be, or who the artist may be, then please contact us. We'd love to hear from you. Now, over here we have a few dolls that--" The old man turned off the television.

"Anna," he called. "Bring me the phone please."

\----

"I don't know, Charles, are you sure we cam trust this man? I checked, double checked, and triple checked the name of survivors and never once did I see the name Castiel Novak. For all we know, this guy could just be some lonely old man who's desperate for attention." Charles sighed as they strode towards the helicopter landing pad. There guests would be arriving soon.

"Think about it Mike. No one else knew about the location of the safe, and no one else knew the exact size of the diamond. Come on, Mike, this man could be our key to finally finding it. We could become famous. Now, play nice, they're here."

Sure enough, the helicopter had just touched down and crew members were rushing over to help the two passengers. A young woman with bright red hair stepped off first, then reached back to help the old man out. Suitcase after suitcase was taken down from the helicopter. Mike leaned in to whisper in Charles' ear.

"For an old man, he sure packs a lot of junk," he said.

"Cut it out and help bring their luggage to their rooms, Mike."

\----

The old man sat in a chair, gazing thoughtfully at all the pictures he had brought with him. Charles arrived at the doorway and knocked three times to get the other man's attention.

"Come in."

"Will this room be acceptable for you sir, or would you like a bigger one? I can always have a few crew members move your stuff for you into another room if you'd like." The old man chuckled softly.

"No, no. This room will do quite nicely. It's my fault for carrying around too much stuff, but I couldn't bear to leave my pictures behind. And please, call me Castiel. Being called 'sir' makes me feel old, though I suppose I am, in a sense. I'll have you know that my one hundred and second birthday is next week."

"Wow, Castiel, I had no idea. Congratulations. That's really impressive. I hope I get to live that long, though I have a feeling that won't get the chance to live past eighty-five." The old man chuckled again. "Can I get you anything, Castiel?"

"Yes, actually, I would like to see my drawing, please."

"Right this way, Castiel."

Charles helped Castiel down the hall and the small flight of stairs that led to the artifacts room. Anna was already there, talking with one of the scientist and gazing at all the recovered artifacts. She pulled up a chair for her grandfather in front of the basin where his drawing was being held.

Castiel grazed his fingers over the top of the water, watching the ripples expand and disappear. He looked over at the small metal objects next to the basin and gasped.

"This was my father's pocket watch." He stroked the aged brass with his fingertips, remembering how smooth it used to be. He thought he could still hear the faint ticking noise of the watch, but he knew it was all in his head.

He turned around and glanced at the small screen that was currently showing a recording of the wreckage. He saw the bow of the ship and the metal railings that were covered in plant growth, and suddenly he was somewhere else. His arms were stretched out to the side and his feet were planted on the rails. The ocean was several stories below him, but he wasn't scared of falling, in fact, he felt like he was flying into the gorgeous sunset. Someone wrapped their arms around his waist from behind and whispered in his ear.

The memory stopped.

He looked back down at his painting, he remembered everything. He saw the signature on the bottom left corner and his emotions came crashing down on him. Castiel let out an anguished cry and slammed his hand on the nearby table, both out of anger and for stability. He felt a tear make its way down bis cheek. Anna rushed to his side and rugged at his arm.

"Perhaps you should lie down grandfather, it's been a long day and this could take a long time. I'm sure these people will have no problem discussing this in the morning." Castiel jerked out of her grip and stood up straight, a determined look fixed on his face.

"No, Anna. I appreciate your intentions, but I came here to tell my story to these young men and I intend on telling it." Castiel sat down in the chair once more and gazed at the drawing. Charles, Mike, and a few others gathered to hear the story.

Charles pulled out a recorder and pressed a button on the side. He set it down in front of the old man. "Are you ready to go back to the Titanic, Castiel?" The old man smiled fondly, his eyes grew distant.

"It was a sunny day on the docks. The date was April 10,1912.."


	3. Tales Lost at Sea

The docks were littered with people. Both passengers and loved ones huddled together in small groups, wishing each other the best of luck. Tears and small kisses were exchanged, as were hugs and firm handshakes. There were wagons and horse drawn carriages parked awkwardly all over the place, fitting wherever their drivers could find a space for them.

An automobile rumbled down the crowded docks, it's tires bouncing and clanging as it made its way over the cobblestone street. It came to a stop in front of one of the ship's entrance gates. Immediately, the two drivers hopped down and reached for the car doors. The well oiled hinges swung open easily and the two men held out their hands. A small, silk-clad hand was placed on top of the drivers black leather gloves as a large, vivacious hat peered out of the doorway, followed by an equally extravagant gown. The young woman stepped out of the automobile and nodded curtly to the driver.  

"Well, isn't this the finest thing you've ever laid your eyes on?" Questioned a voice in a southern accent drawl.

"I'm afraid the finest art I've ever laid my eyes on is you, Miss Masters," replied an older American accent. The voice belonged to a tall, slender man who stepped out of the automobile after the young woman. He stood and looked around, nodding his head in approval before promptly placing an elegant top hat on his thinning hair.

"Oh, Mister Novak, always the charmer, aren't you? I'm flattered." Miss Masters looped her arm through Mister Novak's waiting ones and they began talking animatedly about the ship and its massive size. They stood by the front of the automobile, waiting for the third person to exit.

"What I don't understand," came a low, stubborn voice from inside the car, "Is what all the fuss is about. I mean, it doesn't look any bigger than the Mauretania." A young man stepped out of the vehicle and scanned their surroundings, clearly unimpressed with the ship in front of them. 

Miss Masters let out a shrill giggle. "Oh Mister Novak, your son sure is a hard one to impress." She turned her attention to the younger man. "I'll have you know, Castiel, that Titanic is over one hundred feet longer that the Mauretania, and much, much more luxurious."

"I suppose," was Castiel's reply. They stood in silence while Mister Novak finished working out their luggage situation to the ship hands. He fished out his pocket watch and glanced for a few seconds at the ticking hands. "We should get going soon, Meg. The ship will be departing in a few minutes time."  

"Oh, I don't think we have a thing to worry about that. The ship would not dare leave without one of their wealthiest passengers. As my mother always says, better late than never, I suppose." Castiel had nothing to reply with. He knew that nothing he could say would change her mind.

Mister Novak returned to them with a scowl on his face. "The crew here is unbelievable. It would me a miracle of we made it to New York without one of our suitcases missing. Come along now Miss Masters, Castiel, we must board the ship and get ready for the dinner tonight. After you Madame." Again the two looped arms as they made their way to the check-in with swift, graceful strides. Castiel walked behind them with his chin up and his shoulders squared, just the way he had been taught.

Never let anyone look down on you, don't let them look you in the eye. You are a Novak, and that means you are better than those around you. 

As he walked, he wondered why so many people believed the Titanic to be the Ship of Dreams. It seemed like quite the opposite to him. Like a cage that was keeping him hostage until he was brought back to America to begin the life he never wanted. He yearned for freedom, but he knew he could never have that. Castiel was a prisoner of wealth and the greed that came with his father's love for luxurious goods and expensive items. He sighed and looked up again at the ship. 

                                           TITANIC

The Ship of Nightmares. What good could possibly come out of the metal deathtrap? Castiel knew that there was no use in complaining, no one would ever hear his screams. No one ever did. The only person who understood was his mother, but she had gone a long time ago and left him with nothing but an arranged marriage and an egotistical father. 

Castiel lowered his head, just a bit, and continued walking. His own little form of rebellion.

\----

Across from the crowded, noisy dock was a saloon. It was a simple, wooden structure, with peeling paint and a sagging roof. Puffs of smoke billowed out of two small chimneys at the top and a big glass window took up half of the front wall. On the window were the words Seven Seas Saloon written in old, sea green paint. From the outside you could see a group of young men huddled around a small table next to the window, their faces fixed in sheer concentration.  

Most of the men were older, more middle aged, but there were two young men, probably in their early twenties, who sat along the table with them. They held cards in their hands, that were spread out to resemble a fan and each of the men alternated between staring at their cards and looking at the other males at the table.

Two of the older men began bickering in Swedish, glaring and insulting one another in their native language. Meanwhile, the two younger men sat, staring at the cards in front of them helplessly.

"Dean, I cannot believe that you bet all of our money," accused the boy with the shaggy brown hair, "What are we going to do if we don't win the game? You know that's all dad left us."

"Relax, Sam," replied the one with the short, dirty blonde hair. "How many times have you seen me lose a game of poker? Trust me, I know what I'm doing." Dean reached over and ruffled his little brother's hair. Sam slapped his brother's hand away and mumbled a string of curses under his breath.

"Alright, American boys, shall we see who the lucky bastards will be?" One of the Swedish men pushed a small pile of coins to the center of the table, which were soon followed by two crumpled and folded pieces of paper.

"What's this?"

"That," came the reply, "are two third class tickets to the finest ship in all the land, boy. My friend Sven and I plan on taking these for ourselves in just a few minutes." The man nodded over to the smaller guy, Sven, on his right. He glared at the older man in disapproval.

"Well, we'll just have to see about that now won't we? Let's begin. Sammy, will you do us the honors?" A disappointed looking Sam placed his cards on the table and fanned them out for the rest to see. It was obvious that he was not going to win this round. The next man showed the same results; they held the same fate as Sam's did. It was down to Sven and Dean now. The winner would receive a small amount of money and two third class tickets to board the most sought after ship in the world. The stakes are high.

Sven laid down his cards and smirked triumphantly. Dean's mouth hung open in disappointment and his eyes fell to the table in defeat.

"Sammy, I'm so, so sorry man."

"Don't sorry me Dean. I cannot believe how incredible stupid you are. Why couldn't you just listen to me for once-"

"Shut your cakehole Sam. We're going to America!" An earsplitting grin took over Dean's features as he revealed his cards. It was a full house. The tickets were theirs.

Angry swearing came from the older Swedish man and the two began yelling back and forth each other. Sam got over his shock and pushed himself back from the table, pumping his fist in the air and yelling like a madman. He rushed at his older brother and embraced him, lifting him clear off the ground and nearly crushing all the bones in his body with a giant bear hug. Dean smiled, happy to see that his little brother was happy.

He dug out a small, burlap sack from his pocket and began gathering the money. Suddenly, he was being yanked into the air by a massive hand on the front of his shirt. Dean stared right into the pale blue eyes of the older Swedish man. His eyes were cold and full of hatred and they burned with a fierce glint of disgust as he glared down at the young American boy who had cheated him out of a chance at a new life in a new country. Dean suddenly felt very small. The large man held him in his tormenting gaze for a few more seconds before raising one of his beefy fists and pulling back bis arm. Dean closed his eyes and grimaced, preparing himself for the worst blow of his life. His eyes flew open in surprise when he was suddenly dropped from his position and a pained shout came from his right. Dean picked himself off the ground in time to see the older man storm out the door with a dirty scowl on his face, and Sven pick up the nearest cloth to help staunch the flow of crimson coming from his freshly broken nose. 

Dean's thoughts were interrupted by the blaring of the ship's horn and suddenly the two boys were in a frenzy of gathering their belongings and newly obtained, small fortune. With a final yell goodbye, both Sam and Dean sprinted  out of the saloon and ran across the cobblestoned street. They barely avoided being hit by both vehicles and horses as they finally were within sight of the third class check-in station. The guards were just beginning to close up the gates.

"Wait up! We're passengers!" Dean and Sam doubled their strides and ran faster than they ever had in their entire life. The confused guards looked up at the strange running men and hesitantly opened the gates a bit more. The boys flew past them and up the wobbly metal ramp and barely managed to reach the door without plummeting to the sea below. 

"Excuse me, sirs, but oh must pass inspection first." The guard aboard the ship stared at the two panting, sweaty young men in front of him with distaste.

"You don't understand sir," came Dean's reply. "We're American, we don't have lice, you see?" To emphasize their point, Sam shook his ear-length has in front of the officers face.  
"Yes, I see your point. Hand me your tickets and be on your way. We have no room here for third class immature young men."

"Sorry sir, won't happen again sir." Dean have a mock salute and reached out his hand.

The boys handed the repelled officer their crumbled up tickets and joyously made their way to their rooms. 

"Can you believe this, Sammy? We're going home, man." Dean nudged his little brother in the arm and reached up to ruffle his hair. Normally, Sam would object, but he was too happy to be bothered by the fact that his hair would no longer look as neat as he normally liked it to be. 

The officer stared at the backs of the retreating figures in distaste, wondering why he was always assigned the third class passengers.

Meanwhile, the two boys made their way down a series of stairs and made their way down several narrow doorways before they reached the door to their designated rooms. With a small glance towards his brother, Dean opened the door and peered inside, where two burly blonde haired men turned to look at the new arrivals. 

"Where are Sven and Andrew?" One of the men crossed his arms and glared menacingly at the young duo. He was obviously Swedish, which could be easily identified by his thick, heavy accent. Dean heard Sam gulp uneasily and quickly stepped forward, always ready to protect his little brother.

"Your lovely friends were kind enough to give two, young boys a free ride to America to see their grandfather. You see, we had a pretty lousy excuse of a father and our mother died when we were very young, so naturally, our grandfather took us under his wing. We received news that he was sick and dying, but we had no way of buying our own tickets. Once your friends heard our story, they were more than willing to give us their tickets." Dean glanced up at the man with wide, innocent eyes. 

"The idiot bet the tickets in a poker game didn't he?" Dean nodded, only slightly upset that the guy hadn't bought his story. The two murmured in silent voices before turning back to their beds. Dean took that as a sign to continue with what they were doing.

"Hey Sammy," The taller boy looked down at his brother as they made their way towards their bunk. "I get top bunk."

The brothers quickly set up their beds, wanting to get far away from the intimidating men. Soon enough, they heard the large blaring noise of the ship's horn and felt the slight vibrations that accompanied it. With a glance, they sprinted out the doorway. They bumped into all kinds of people as they ran up the stairs and through the hallways.

Finally, they reached the top deck and they shoved their way through the crowd of people, ignoring the string of curses that followed them, until they reached the guard railings. The boys threw their hands up in the air and waved down at all the people on the decks.

"We're going to America baby! Woohoo!" Sam pumped his fists in the air just as the ship began lurching forward. Scores of people waved and shouted their final goodbyes. The commotion lasted several minutes until the people on the dock were out of hearing distance.

A few hours later, Titanic was sailing in the middle of the wide open sea. The air was cold, but the sky was bright with stars. The only passengers left on the deck were two young men.


	4. Railings

The following morning, the ship was well on its way, the coast of Ireland shrinking faster and faster by the minute. 

"Captain, everything seems to be running smoothly." An older man stood at the railing of the upper deck, gazing thoughtfully towards the horizon.

"Well, then, Mr. Murdoch, why don't we see just how fast she can get and let her stretch her legs. Signal the others to go full on." 

"Aye, Captain." With a kurt nod, the young man in uniform strode towards the small cabin to alert the crew in the engine room of the Captain's wishes.  
A commotion of noise was heard as two young men dashed past below the upper deck and through the halls. The pair stopped for a brief moment when they reached the proud bow of the ship. They stood, in awe, as they stared out into the horizon, ear-splitting grins on both of the brother's faces. 

"Can you believe it, Sammy." The shorter boy spoke. "We're going home." He glanced up at his little brother, whose gaze was still transfixed on the vast sea I front of them. They were going home.

Suddenly, the younger boy grabbed his brother's sleeve, tugging at it like a child would, and pointed out towards the horizon. "Look, Dean, look! Can't you see it? Man, it's like I can see the Statue of Liberty already." Dean snorted at his brother's antics. "It's very small, of course." They both laughed at that.

Something out of the corner of his eye caught Dean's attention, and when he realized what it was, it was his turn to point excitedly and tug on his brother's sleeve. "Look, Sam, do you see them? Look down there at the Dolphins."

Sam leant slightly over the railings to get a better view, and sure enough, there was a pod of dolphins swimming alongside the front of the ship. The boys laughed as they watched them dash in and out of the water, amused at the way they seemed to race against the ship's speed.

Dean suddenly grabbed hold of one of the ropes on the metal mast next to him and hoisted himself up, one foot planted firmly in the railings on either side of his brother, who looked up and smiled at him. Spreading his arms out wide, Dean embraced the chilled wind that ran through his tousled hair and whipped around his face.  
"I'm the king of the world," he hollered into the bright colors of the setting sun. He let out another triumphant yell and pumped his fist in the air. His cries were soon joined by those of his brother. 

_ _

 

On the other side of the ship, a small, slender man paced alongside a young woman in an extravagant dress.

"This is your very own private deck to use for whatever you may like, Miss Masters. I hope it is to your liking."

"Oh, Mister Singer, I can assure you that it is just perfect. I assume you've made arrangements to have the afternoon tea brought here everyday?" She raised a delicate eyebrow as she waited for a response.

"Of course, Miss Masters. Every day and whenever it may be that you desire it. Anything for you." The man with the thinning hair gracefully brought her small hand to his lips in a soft kiss.

"I should expect so," she replied, a snobbish smirk on her face. "I paid good money, and I expect only the finest." Her expression suddenly turned sour. "Except when it comes to those dreadful paintings that my fiance insists on bringing with him." She glances at the crates that remained propped up against the patio wall. "If it were not for the fact that they keep Castiel satisfied, I would not bother having them around. That being said, if it were up to me, i would have had them thrown overboard hte moment we stepped foot on this ship. They are nothing but finger paintings is what they are."

"And here," began a new voice from inside the room. "We see the difference between Miss Masters and myself. Whereas she sees nothing but measley smudges of paint, I see the emotion and precision behind every stroke of the brush." He stroked the painting adoringly, admiring the expert blend of colors. "It is absolutely magnificent, and you would have to be blind not to see it." A shrill laugh tore him from his admiration of the artwork, causing him to nearly drop the fragile painting.

"Oh, Castiel, you flatter yourself. Those paintings will not amount to a thing." The small woman sent a sweet smile his way, however, it failed to reach her eyes. "This Picarri sir was practically a madman." With a silk-clad hand, she picked up the nearest painting and looked at it with such destaste, you would have thought that she was holding soemone's old, dirty sock.

Castiel had heard enough. "It's Picasso," he corrected stubbornly. "And his art is brilliance." He snatched the painting away from her and hung it delicately on the wall next to an elegantly carved bureau and a small, dark safe. "Now," he continued, pikcing up another painting from a crate, this one with many abstract faces, "Would you be so kind as to leave me while I finish adding a bit of life to this boring room?"

"Oh Castiel, you are so serious. We will make sure that this attitude of yours will be fixed by the time lunch rolls along, won't we?" The look she sent him was cold and threatening. Castiel swallowed.

"Of course, Meg, whatever you wish. Forgive me, sweetheart, the trip to the port was long and I find myself quite tired. Hopefully I will be fine by the time the lunch bell rings." He walked over to his bride-to-be and pecked her quickly on the cheek, trying his hardest not to shudder at the contact made with her heavily powdered face.

"We better hope so," came Meg's reply, as she turned on her heel and stode elegantly towards the door before stopping abruptly. "Oh, and Castiel? Wear the suit I bought you, the one from Morrocco. You look quite-handsome in it." She gave him a lingering look before leaving, along with Mister Singer and the few other maids that were helping him hang the paintings.

Castiel remained alone, standing in the middle of his too big, too luxurious room. How ironic, he thought. To be on a ship full of so many people, yet I have never felt more alone in my entire life.

And in that moment, an idea struck him. For once, he welcomed the lonliness because it gave him the freedom to think up a plan.

_ _

 

A few hours passed, and soon enough Castiel found himself surrounded by meaningless chatter and excessive amounts of perfumes and expensive colognes as he sat between his father and Meg Masters, along with a group of pretentious wealthy aristocrats who had nothing better to do than boast about their money. I was horrible and each was more unbearable than the last, well, except for Madame Harvelle, who was what his father considered to be 'new money' due to the fact that her husband had recently struck gold somewhere in the west. She was a loud, rambunctious woman, with a kind face and slightly rounded features. How she reminded Castiel of his mother.

The afternoon lunch, which had consisted of lamb with a side of greens and the best wine that money had to offer, had long since vanished, as well as the post-lunch, afternoon tea. Currently, the table was dicussing the details of the ship with some of it's founders.

"So what on Earth gave you the idea to build such a huge boat in the first place?" Madame Harvelle's voice rang out from the opposite side of the table as expectant eyes made their way towards Mister Walker and Mister Roman.

"Well," began Mister Richard Roman, "It was a fairly average day; Gordon and I had decided to take a walk aaround the docks when, suddenly, the idea just came to me. Why not build a ship? No, not just any ship. Why don't we build the grandest, fastest, most luxurios ship that this fine world has ever seen? We certainly had the funds to do so, and there was nothing stopping us. So now, nearly three years later, here we are on her maiden voyage."

Castiel spoke up before he could stop himself, his curiosity getting the better of him. "And who cam up with the name Titanic?"

"Ah yes, that would be me," replied Gordon Walker, the man seated next to Mister Roman. "You see, son, I wanted a name that demonstrated her sheer size and power, without overlooking her beauty and elegance. Titanic seemed like the perfect match." Castiel nodded in agreement, and soon enough the topic had changed to the latest gossip that had been discovered in the past few hours. Tuning them out, Castiel reached for a cigarette, lighting it swiftly and bringing it up to his mouth. His fathe eyed him with distaste. 

"Castiel, you know I don't like that." He responded by puffing a small cloud of smoke in his father's face. Meg, who had noticed their exchange, gave Castiel's father a tight smile before reaching up and snatching the cigarette from Castiel's grasp, extinguishing it quickly.

"Of course he knows you don't like it, Mister Novak. Isn't that right sweetpea?" She gave him a warning look and Castiel had no choice but to submit if he wanted to avoid causing a scene infront of the entire First Class. He slumped slightly in his seat.

"Why are you being so difficult, Castiel? I raised you better that this. What in the world has gotten into you?" He ignored his father, and instead excused himself from the table, claiming that the room was too stuffy and that he needed some fresh air.

_ _

 

Dean Winchester sat on a bench with his brother, Sam. Currently, Sam was going on and on about a girl he had met while having lunch, named Jessica Moore. By the sound of it, he was pretty love-struck. Dean couldn't help the goofy grin that spread over his face while he listened to his little brother swoon over her "beautiful, long golden hair" and "her amazing smile". He was just happy that his brother was happy.

He continued to listen to his brother drone on and on as he bent over his sketchpad, concentrating on putting the finishing touches on his latest work of a man leaning against the railings with his daughter on his shoulder, hands gripping firmly onn his little girl's waist to prevent her fromm falling over. It was sweet, and made Dean long for some kind of parental comfort. He was just about done when a movement from the upper deck caught his eye.

Right there, standing on the small deck above him, looking off into the distance, was a man that Dean had never seen before. Now, ordinarily a sight like this would have never mattered to him, but something about the look on the man's face troubled Dean. The stranger looked fairly young, so why did he have a troubled expression on his face that Dean had ever only seen with old men that had found out that all of their money had been lost? It didn't seem right to be seeing such a lost, troubled expression on such a pretty, young face. A pang of emotion struck Dean and caught him by surprise. As though he could feel Dean's eyes on him, the stranger turned his head and Dean was once again caught off guard by the intensity of the man's gaze. Wow, Dean thought, those eyes put the sea to shame. He suddenly wished that he were close enough to see the color, and he could have sworn that he saw the corners of the man's lips turn upwards ever so slightly before he looked away...

"He is way out of your league, Mister." Dean jerked backwards, and was met by an amused chuckle. He looked up and was greeted by mischevious hazel eyes. "The name's Gabriel." Dean hesitantly reached out a hand and grasped the other man's in a quick hand shake.

"I wasn't staring at him." He started. "And I don't want to-"

"No need to make excuses, I know a gay man when I see one, but don't worry pal, your secret's safe with me. My lips are sealed." The man offered him a friendly grin. "The name is Gabriel, want asweet?" Gabriel pulled out a few carmel rolls from his pocket and offered one to both Dean and Sam, who graciously accepted.

"Thanks, Gabriel. My name is Dean Winchester, and this handsome fella is my little brother, Sam." Sam offered the man his hand, too.

"Well, Dean-o, you're definitely right about one thing." Dean raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Your brother here sure is handsome." They were silent for a few seconds before both Dean and Gabriel broke out into a set of hearty guffaws, which were only increased in volume when Dean glanced at his now red-faced, mortified little brother.They spent the next few minutes chatting pleasantly when Dean suddenly looked up again and saw that the stranger was gone. He tried to brush the pang of sadness off, but somehow he couldn't. He tried to convince himself that the man was a stranger, and that the chances of Dean meeting him and actually talking to him were very slim, which seemed to do the trick.

Then again, why did Dean feel as though this was only the first of many encounters yet to come?

_ _

 

Dinner came all too quickly, and once again, Castiel found himself surrounded at a crowded table. He was starting to find it harder and harder to fake his smiles and engaging iin polite conversations was beyond what he was willing to give. Castiel felt sick to his stomach, and his insides felt as though they were made of steel, dragging him down. He was exhausted, yet his mind was reeling with thoughts of the plan he had conjured up earlier that day. Has it really only been a day? No, it has been less than a day. Oh dear God, I need to get out of here. Castiel couldn't bear it any longer. 

Panic seized him and he felt an anxiety that he had never experienced before, but that only fueled his need to escape. Pushing himself away from the table with shaking fingers, he tried to ignore the alarmed stares as he quickly mummbled an incoherent excuse and dashed out of the room, nearly knocking over a baffled waiter in the process.  
Time seemed to drag on as Castiel ran through the deserted decks. He was lost, no wait, he knew where he was, didn't he? It was all a blur. he shoved his way past a group of elderly couples, not bothering to appologize. Sob after sob racked his body as streams of hot tears poured down his face. He wiped at them angrily as he hopelessly ran for his life. All too soon, he reached the bow of the ship and he screamed and cursed himself and everything else .. He was foolish to think that he could run away from all of this. he was on a boat for crying out loud, of course he wouldn't be able to run away.

But I can jump, he thought. He was paralyzed with fear at the thought, but his determination snapped him out of it, and soon enough, he found himself reaching out for the railing with one hand, then two, and before he knew it, he had both feet of the lower railing and was holding onto the rope of the mast that stood next to him and was hoisting himself onto the other side. Finally, he stood there, balancing on railings. Both of his hands held on to the railing behind him, while he leaned forward experimentally.   
The sea lay below him in a swirl of white foam from the ship's propellers. The sight made Castiel dizzy, but he couldn't care less. All he wanted was an escape, and this was his time to do it. He took deep, ragged breaths as he looked down again at the andry, dark water that he was about to make his grave.  
"Don't do it."  
Castiel's head snapped back, and he nearly lost his balance as he faced the owner of the cautious voice. "What?" he asked.

"Don't do it. Don't jump." The young man stood a few feet from the railing and was looking at Castiel with wide, green eyes. His stance was wary, yet calculated.

"Don't you dare tell me what I can and cannot do. You don't know me."

"You're right. I don't know you, but I'm involved now; I've seen too much. I can't just stand here and watch you jump without doing anythin about it, what kind of a man would that make me?" The young man took a step forward and Castiel immediately tensed up.

"Don't move, don't you dare move. One more step and I'll let go, I mean it," he threatened. The young man held up both hands in surrender and motioned to the cigarette that he held in his right.

"Do-do you mind?" Castiel glanced at him warily as he threw the cigarette overboard. "Wow," the man whispered. "That water looks cold. I don't think I've seen water that cold since I was a kid. Not since my old man took us camping on a lake and i fell through the ice. Let me tell ya, water that cold doesn't kill you right away, but once you're in, you almost wish it would. As soon as you make contact, it's as though there are a million knives attacking you from every angle. not pleasant at all." He sighed and took off his jacket, letting it fall to the floor before bending over and untying his shoes. "Tha's why I'm not lookin forward to jumping in after you."

"What? No, leave me alone, this doesn't concern you at all. Go away, you don't understand. No one does." Castiel tried to get rid of the man, but he wouldn't budge.

"I can't leave now. It's like I mentioned before; I'm involved now. You jump, I jump. I guess the fall alone would probably kill us both, but if not, then the water probably might. Now, I'm a pretty strong swimmer, but I don't know how long I'd be able to keep us both above water before we inevitably die of hypothermia."

"You're crazy," Castiel muttered.

"Says the guy leaning over the railings." They were both quiet for a few seconds after that. 

"Okay," came Castiel's reply. "Okay, fine. You win, I'm coming over." 

"Thank goodness you aren't stupid, I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't seen things my way." He reached out a hand towards Castiel's waiting one. Unlike Castiel's, his were warm and calloused.

"I'm Dean," the stranger whispered, obviously trying to alleviate some of the tension.

"Castiel," he replied. That made Dean smile.

Introductions out of the way, they were now faced with the daunting task at hand; finding out a way to get Castiel safetly over the railings without bringing both of them over.   
"Easy now, Cas, I've got you." Dean carefully placed Castiel's other hand over his shoulder and on of his on Castiel's waist before pulling back slightly and giving him a chance to step up onto the railings.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly and according to plan until Castiel slipped and lost his foothold, causing both of them to cling to each other depserately as Castiel plunged downwards. Dean grabbed madly at Castiel's forearms, beads of sweat beginning to form at the exersion. 

"Dean," Castiel cried out. "Dean, don't let go, please!" The pleading's of Castiel struck something in Dean, something that he hadn't felt in what seems like forever.

"I won't." Dean looked the terrified man in the eyes. "I won't let go, Cas. I've got you. I won't let go." With a final tug, Cas was able to regain his foothold and Dean was able to haul him over. They landed on the deck with a loud thump, both of them out of breath and shaking, though Castiel was shaking far worse than Dean was. Somehow, he had landed on top of Castiel, and now he stayed, staring at the young man underneath him. "Hello there, Bright Eyes," he panted out, his breathing heavy. 

He had just managed to roll off when he heard the heavy footfall of several men running down the deck. He looked up just in time to see the stunnd face of several crew members and an outraged young woman.

"How dare you," she accused, in a loud, shrilly voice. "What have you done to my poor, poor fiance? Look at him! I have never been more revolted in my entire life! What is the meaning of this?" Looking at it from their perspective, this did look pretty bad, Dean thought. They must have been alerted when Cas slipped.

The man himself was still pale and shaking, only now he had managed to get to his feet. He looked faint, and the shock was evident on his face. The sight made Dean's stomach churn uncomfortably.

"Sir," one of the crewmembers barked, "I'm afraid we have no choice but to arrest you until we get this sorted out." Dean went to protest when the small brunette woman slapped him hard across the face before turning around and cradling Castiel's face in her tiny hands. Dean didn't know what hurt him more; the slap to his face, or seeing her hands on Castiel's.

Two more men stepped forward and jerked his arms behind his back, making him wince slightly, while the other brought out a pair of handcuffs. It was then that Castiel seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in, and decided to intervene. 

"Wait, no, leave him alone. He-he did nothing wrong. He wasn't trying to hurt me. Quite the opposite really," he flashed an uneasy smile. "I was-trying to see the-the-"

"Propellers," Dean cut in, Castiel sent him a grateful look.

"Propellers, yes! I was trying to look over at the propellers, but I leaned too far, and I would have fallen, too, if it hadn't been for Dean here. This was all just a big misunderstanding, you see?" They group of people remained in silence as both Castiel and Dean held their breaths in anticipation. The officers clearly did not buy the story at all, and they kept stealing glances towards Dean's jacket and untied shoes which lay neatly in a small pile. Finally, Mister Novak broke the silence.

"Well, then, you see? This boy is no criminal, he saved my son. Now, I do believe that you three must let him go. Perhaps a reward for the boy, Meg?" The officers bustled around to do what they were told while Meg glanced suspiciously between the two men. She seemed to give up as she oponed her purse and brought out two crisp bills and slipped them in Dean's shirt pocket.

"Is that all he gets for saving the love of your life?" Castiel questioned her testingly. She looked irritated for a second, but she quickly fixed her features into a sickly sweet expression that never reached her cold eyes.

"Of course not, how silly of me. Mister-?"

"Winchester. Dean Winchester," he offered.

"Yes, Mister Winchester. Why don't you join us for dinner tomorrow, where you can recount your heroic tale to the rest of us. I presume you know where to go, and what to wear?" She added in the last part with a slight sneer, glancing at his touseled appearance with distaste.

"Thank you miss, I can assure you that I'll be there."

Without a final glance, she turned on her heel and left, her small entourage trailing closely behind her, all except for Castiel, who lingered slightly behind.  
"Thank you, Dean. For everything. I suppose I will be seeing you again tomorrow night, so until then." He stood there a bit awkwardly, tugging at the blanket around his shoulders.

"Castiel!" Called a loud, feminine voice from a few meters ahead."

"Coming," he whispered, though he was certain that she wouldn't hear him. With a final, small smile he turned around an slowly began making his way to the First Class cabins.

Until then, Bright Eyes.


End file.
